


That Kid

by RaeBans



Category: SK8 the Infinity (Anime)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:21:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29227623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaeBans/pseuds/RaeBans
Summary: While he's working, Joe catches a glimpse of a young boy who looks exactly like him.
Relationships: Nanjo Kojiro | Joe/Reader
Comments: 23
Kudos: 142





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little something I started working on. I'm hoping to make this a little series. Usually, I'm not too good at series, but I have somewhat of an idea so we'll see how it goes!

Nanjo Kojiro walks around his restaurant, chatting with his guest as he moves from table to table. Every now and then, he does this; he leaves the kitchen to converse with the customers. He always wants to know their opinions, asking about the food quality and decor. He says that any respectable chef is open to any feedback. That, and he just likes talking to people. If you asked him, Kojiro would say that he is a people person. He's a person who thrives off of attention and interaction with others. As he’s making his rounds, talking and laughing with his patrons, a tap on the window draws his attention.

There is a little boy sticking his face and hands on the glass. He makes funny faces as he peers into the restaurant. Some of the people who notice chuckle at the cuteness, others scoff, remarking how irresponsible the mother must be, but Kojiro just remains quiet. Time stills for him as he takes in the boy’s features. He has chubby, round cheeks and a brilliant little smile. His burgundy eyes sparkle with intrigue, no doubt entertained by the few reaction he catches. His forest green hair frames his young face sweetly.The young boy has a wild little mane. Although it looks brushed, it still waves with a mind of its own, and he has a distinct cowlick sticking out of the top of his head.

Kojiro sees a (complexion) hand reach down and grab the one of the boy’s hands. He is pulled away from the window. Everyone has moved on and returned to their meals, but Kojiro stands there, stuck. The whole moment probably lasted a minute; it felt like an eternity to him. He recognizes a lot of the boy’s features. _Too many of those features._ He hesitates then excuses himself, rushing out the front door.

His head whips around as he looks up and down the street. He tries to see if he can catch a glimpse of that boy again, but he’s gone. Kojiro wants to believe that it was a coincidence. He wants to believe that maybe it was a distant cousin or a long lost baby brother. He knows better though. Kaoru calls him an idiot all the time, but he’s not that dense.

 _That kid … might be,_ he think to himself.

Kojiro doesn’t want to complete the thought, almost like he doesn’t want to jinx himself, but he knows better. He heads back into the restaurant and starts to work again. _That kid …_ The boy’s face stays in his mind for the rest of the day.


	2. Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joe seeks the advice of his friend and rival Cherry Blossom, who ends up telling the chef something he thought was quite obvious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think Kojiro and Kaoru's dynamic is super funny and I feel like Kojiro comes to Kaoru with problems he too dumb to work out himself. Here's Part II y'all, enjoy!

Sakurayashiki Kaoru sighs as he swirls the small bit of white wine in his glass. He sits in booth-like table in front of the kitchen while Kojiro paces around on the other side. It’s been a while since he’s seen his childhood friend this frazzled and riled. Of course, the chef gets fired up when he skates in a beef or when he’s in the kitchen or even when he’s with a woman. This is a different kind of energy and anxiety though. He thinks about the voicemail Kojiro left earlier today. His eardrum nearly burst when he listened to the message. Kojiro yelled something about a boy and weirdness and how he needed to get to Sia la Luce as soon as possible; he was quite panicked. It reminded Kaoru of how he felt when he was in need of an outlet for Carla. It not a feeling that he wishes on anyone in particular. The pink-haired man finishes the rest of his drink and sets down the glass.

“So are you going to stop pacing and tell me what happened, or are you just going to watch me drink wine?” Kaoru asks as he picks up the bottle to refresh his beverage.

“I saw something really, really strange today,” Kojiro starts.

Kaoru raises an eyebrow, “You mentioned that in the voicemail.”

“It was a kid.”

“Okay?”

“He ... he looked a lot like me. Kaoru, he looked just like me. It’s so weird. You don’t think …”

“Well,” his rival sips his wine again, “it was bound to catch up with you someday.”

Kojiro wrinkles his nose, “And what do you mean by that?”

“You know exactly what I mean, you dimwit," Kaoru pinches the bridge of his nose, "I'm starting to feel bad for the kid who inherited your idiot genes. I mean, honestly, do you really think that you’ve never accidentally gotten someone pregnant with all the women you sleep with?"

“What? No way! I know you take me for an idiot, but I’m not that dumb. I’m usually super careful, really,” he says.

He starts to wrack his brain. He flips through a mental catalog of faceless women. How far back is he even supposed to look? Just in one year, he sleeps with more women that he’d care to count, and that kid looked like he had to be two or three. But then he had to factor in pregnancy time, so how far back should he think again? He groans, feeling a cramp in his brain.

“Kaoru, what should I do?” he nearly whines.

“I thought the answer would be more obvious for a person like you,” Kaoru finishes his second glass, “Forget about that kid and just move on.”

Admittedly, that is what Kojiro is thinking, he just didn’t think he’d hear Kaoru say it so casually.

“Is that what you would do?”

“Oh, god no. If I got a woman pregnant, I would definitely take responsibility, but you’re not like me. One, you’re not nearly as smart as I am.”

“Hey,” Kojiro warns.

“Two, you have a different image and reputation that you want to uphold, I don’t. So just forget about the kid. Honestly, I assumed that you would’ve come to that conclusion yourself because that’s who you are. But since you’ve asked for my advice, that’s it.”

Kojiro grimaces, but, internally, he knows that his friend is right. He knows that forgetting that kid would be the best thing for him. He can get on with his life of indulgence, skating, cooking, and sleeping around. His skater reputation and his image as a restauranteur would be protected. Usually, a guy with a bastard child is looked upon too highly. However, he can’t get passed the fact that Kaoru gave him advice so easily. Kojiro hates it. He told him to abandon responsibility because it is who he is after all. It’s true that he isn’t like the pink-haired calligrapher, but it still hurts to know that he’s thought of in such a way.

“What if they’re here looking for money or something?”

Kaoru stands, “If they want money, then pay. If not, like I said, forget about it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back so I can give Carla her nightly updates.”

“Tech freak,” Kojiro sucks his teeth.

“Man whore.”

 _Ouch._ Kojiro doesn’t have a comeback. He purses his lips and folds his arms across his broad chest. The two exchange their goodbyes and goodnights, then Kaoru exits the building. Kojiro is alone, but the racing thoughts in his head makes him feel like he’s standing in a large crowd of overlapping voices. Now that he knows, is it really okay to just abandon the kid like that?

* * *

That night, he sleeps alone for the first time in a while. His head is full of thoughts, and he wants his bed to be empty tonight. They would be no room for them anyway. Kojiro stares at the blades of his fan blankly. He’s trying to pry through his memories once more. The faces of the women are a hazy, foggy mess. He can’t pick out a single facial features. Every now and then, he clearly sees an image clearly. But it’s a random full rack, a nice ass, or a pair of long legs. That’s the only thing he’s seemed to retain. Names? Forget it. He thought he could at least pick out some faces, but he only sees brief pictures of salacious body parts.

He’s usually so careful. Of course he didn’t want to be riddled with sexually transmitted diseases, but, most of all, he really didn’t want a kid. He doesn’t want and isn’t ready for that level of responsibility. He always uses protection. Always. Even when he’s had a couple shots and his head is buzzing with alcohol, he still manages to wear a condom.

Kojiro rolls over and buries his face in his pillows. He lets out a frustrated roar. Maybe Kaoru is right and he hates agreeing with that man. He should just forget about that kid. He shouldn’t put too much thought into it. What difference would it make anyway? Even if he did figure out who the mother was, what would he do? What would he even say? Maybe it is for the best. It would be better to just wash his hands of the matter.

He bites the inside of his cheek. He doesn’t usually feel this way, but part of him actually is disgusted with himself. He’s so ready to abandon a child that could possibly be his. Kojiro rolls over on his side and closes his eyes. It’s a kind of shitty think to do. He runs through mental files full of unfamiliar and unknown once again. He tries figure out who the mystery mother could be. He tries again. Thinking over and over, until he falls asleep, dreaming of that little boy’s face.


	3. Part III

Your head is pounding. It feels like your eyeballs are going to burst from your skull or, at the very least, if you started crying tears of blood you wouldn’t be surprised at all. Wave after wave of nausea and exhaustion beats against your body like the ocean crashing upon a rocky shore. You just want to collapse onto the plush, prepared guest bed in the next room. You’re swaying back and forth, trying to keep steady on your feet, but it’s taking a strange amount of strength just to keep you upright.

Your day started early as most mornings do for most mothers. You had a mid morning flight from Hokkaido to Kagoshima, followed by a couple ferries and a few taxi rides. It was a total of thirteen hours of travel. Alone, that was manageable, but with an energetic three-year-old in your stead, traveling has become a difficult task. Anyone who has raised or been around children knows that traveling with young kids is probably one of the most stressful aspects of parenthood. Luckily, you got through the day without any big tantrums or embarrassing outburst. Well, your son licking a random restaurant window was pretty embarrassing, but he could’ve chosen to do something much worse.

He could’ve chosen to have a complete and utter meltdown. Exactly like what he’s currently doing. You suppose you’re lucky he waited to have fit until you reached your mother’s house. Still, at this rate, your mother’s new neighbors are going to file a noise complaint.

Your son is on the living room floor, screaming and crying. His face is flushed as tears stream down his round cheeks. Anger pours out of his little body in the form of thrashing limbs and raging wails. Kicking his legs and flailing his arms, he prevents you from scooping him into your arms. Heels and fists thunderously slam against hardwood flooring. Frustrated sobs shake the preschooler to his core; he hiccups in between long howls, trying to catch his breath, but his breathlessness does nothing to quell the sound of his crying. You rub your temples. You’re almost at your wits end.

"Nacchan …" you sigh.

"Mommy! I don’t wanna go bed!" he cries.

"It’s time for bed, Nacchan. Aren’t you tired? We had a long day today."

"No! I wanna skate! You promised, Mommy, you promised! I wanna skate!"

"I know, baby. I’m sorry we ran out of time today, and now it’s bedtime. But, if you can be a good boy—"

"No, Mommy, no! I wanna skate! Now!"

"Natsu … "

"No! No! No! I’m not gonna bed!"

"Natsuhiko!" you snap with a raised voice and a sharpened tone.

He pauses for a moment before his eyes begin filling with tears again. Natsuhiko resumes his crying. He doesn’t sound as angry anymore. He isn’t kicking or fighting the imaginary forces that robbed him of his precious skate time. Instead, as he lays limply, you hear dejection in his sobs. Your baby is truly heartbroken. The annoyance you felt is quickly replaced with guilt. You lay on the floor alongside Natsuhiko. Angling your body to face him, you rub smooth circles on his trembling back.

"Nacchan, I know you’re really sad and upset about the skatepark. We had a big day, and Mommy thought we’d have more time before bed. That was my mistake. I’m so sorry, honey. But if you go to bed now, we can go to the skatepark tomorrow."

He hiccups, looking at you with tearful burgundy eyes, "R-Really?"

"Yep. We don’t have anything to do tomorrow, so we’ll definitely have time."

"Promise?"

His eyes search your face for lies. You smile.

"Promise. Is there anything I can do to make you feel better right now?"

"I want you to rock me, Mommy," he whines, reaching for you as you sit up.

You gather Natsuhiko into your arms, and he immediately latches onto you. Gently humming, you rock him back and forth. You can feel the tension slowly starting to leave his body. He relaxes into your touch. You know he’s just as exhausted as you are. He probably had his tantrum because he was just tired. It doesn’t take long for Natsuhiko to fall asleep, going limp in your arms. You sigh with relief and kiss the top of his head. The silence is beautiful.

Your mother emerges from the kitchen, "I’m glad you finally got him to go to sleep. I just got done listening to a couple neighbors yell at me through the phone."

"Sorry, he was just tired."

"I know, dear. I’ve dealt with cranky kids before. You look tired too."

"I’m literally about to drop."

"I’ll let you get to bed then. I’m glad you two made it safely. Good night, dear."

"Night, mom."

You stand up and take Natsuhiko into the guest bedroom. Shifting him to one arm, you pull back the cover then place him into the bed. You can’t bother to give him a bath tonight. You don’t even feel like giving yourself a shower. You strip yourself and your son down to your underwear, and you collapse next to him. The plush mattress underneath you feels like a cloud. Natsuhiko, almost instinctively, snuggles against your body. You fall asleep with your son in your arms, both of you absolutely drained from your long day.


	4. Part IV

Kojiro stares at the ceiling absentmindedly as he runs his hand under cool water, soothing his newest burn. Around him, the workers of the Sia la Luce continue to work diligently, picking up his slack. He’s supposed to be on the line, but he singed his hand on the stove top. A stupid mistake. His head has been clouded with thoughts lately. He spaces out, lost in the fog of his mind. He’s been like this for the past few days. Dazed and unfocused, he has become a useless klutz. Though Kaoru would argue that he’s always been a mindless oaf, Kojiro has been failing in areas he usually succeeded in, like cooking.

He looks down at the multiple bandages wrapped around his fingers. His hands haven’t looked like this since culinary school. Just today, he’s given himself deep cut on his forefinger and a nice burn on his hand.

He hasn’t been sleeping well either. Every time he closes his eyes, he can see that little boy sticking his face against the window. Last night’s dream was particularly disturbing. It started out so nice. He was in bed with several beautiful women, swimming in a sea of ecstasy. He went to kiss the pretty blonde at his left side, but he was met with the face of that kid. Then, one by one, each of the women’s faces started to morph and change into that kid. They all grabbed onto him, pinning him down to the bed as they chanted “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy.” He woke up with a shout. He was drenched in a puddle of his own sweat. When he looked at the clock, he saw that it was only two in the morning. He wasn’t able to fall back asleep for the rest of the night.

Kojiro shivers. What a creepy nightmare. He is rattled from his thoughts by the sound of the glass plate clattering against a metal counter. He jumps, looking to his right immediately. Izumo Miki, head waitress, stands before him with her arms folded under her large breast. She is scowling at him and glaring with her sharp grey eyes. Still, even when she is upset she manages to be a black-haired beauty. Miki snaps her fingers in front of his face when she notices him ogling her chest. He snaps back to attention.

“Nanjo, you made another dish wrong.”

“Really? What’s wrong with this one?” Kojiro asks exasperatedly.

A young man with a stylish, brown undercut and hazel eyes walks over. His normally stoic and serious face wears a look of irritation. Sous-chef Kinjo Takeji rolls up the sleeves of his chef’s coat before he takes a bite of the ruined dish.

He retches, then grimaces, “Kojiro-san, there is way too much garlic in this. What’s wrong with you?.”

“K-Kinjo-san! Izumo-san!” another waitress burst through the swinging door wailing, “H-Help!”

She is a couple years younger than Miki. Her small body is trembling, and her short caramel-colored bob is bouncing frantically as she speaks. Tears are brimming in her big tawny eyes as she holds another failed dish in trembling hands.

“T-The order isn’t right a-and the customers got m-mad and I don’t know what to do! Help me, Izumo-san!” she stutters in a high-pitched, panicked voice.

“Calm down, Igarashi,” Kinjo says.

“Kinjo is right. Just calm down, Emie. It’s not your fault. I’ll talk to the customers for you.”

Miki sighs. She removes the jade pin holding her hair into a bun. Her long black locks fall down her back, and she runs her hand through her hair in exasperation. It’s been a long lunch shift already, and she really doesn’t feel like dealing with this.

“Hey, Nanjo! Can you please get it together,” she asks as she gathers her hair into a bun again, “You know that we get the heat when a dish is wrong.”

“I know, I know. Sorry,” he apologies.

“I’ll be right back.”

Miki leaves the kitchen to go placate the angry customers, and Kojiro sighs. He really doesn’t mean for others to be taking the blame for his mistakes. Takeji takes the food from Emie. He doesn’t even bother to taste this one. He takes both dishes and dumps them in the trash. The brunet quickly sets to work preparing a new plate. He is muttering something to himself as he moves about the kitchen. Kojiro can’t hear it, but he knows it’s about him. He doesn’t blame him though. It’s been a rough couple of days for the Sia la Luce crew.

“Oh, let me help, Nanjo-san,” Emie says as she grabs the first aid kit. Kojiro allows the young woman to gently apply burn ointment to the angry red mark on his skin. She takes out a white bandage and wraps his wrist.

Miki burst back through the kitchen doors and Emie jumps.

“W-What did they say?” she asks nervously.

“Don’t worry about it, Emie-chan. Everything is fine,” Miki smiles and she pets her juniors head, “Kinjo?”

“Already on it,” he says, taking the remade dishes into the dining room.

Emie is almost done wrapping Kojiro’s hand in a white bandage; she sighs with relief, “I’m glad that the customer wasn’t too mad. There, Nanjo-san, all done.”

“Kiss it better, Emie-chan?” he asks, puckering his lips and leaning in, “I’ll feel so much better if I get a kiss from you.”

The waitress turns into a blushing and stuttering mess as she moves her hands around frantically. Miki smacks the back of his head.

“You’re lips aren’t what’s hurt, idiot.”

“I just burned my hand, and you’re hurting me more! How cruel, Miki-chan!”

She rolls her eyes, ignoring his whining. When Takeji returns to the kitchen, she shares a knowing look with him. Obviously, between the multiple self-inflicted injuries and the incorrect dishes, they both know that Kojiro is causing more trouble than he’s worth. He nods.

“Kojiro-san, you should take the rest of the day off,” Takeji says.

“What? Come on, guys. I’m fine. So what I made a couple of mistakes, I’ll bounce back!”

Miki hums to herself, “Doubt it.”

“You do seem really stressed out, Nanjo-san,” Emie speaks up, “You should go home and rest.”

“Not you too, Emie-chan.”

Takeji pinches the bridge of his nose, “At this rate, you’re going to catch on fire or catch the restaurant on fire before the day ends.”

“I’ll be okay. Really.”

He starts to walk away from the sink. He doesn’t make it far because he trips over a dirty pan. It starts a chain reaction, sending more used pots and pans crashing down on top of him. The sounds of clanging metal fills the kitchen, and no doubt startles a few patrons in the dining room. Takeji groans into his hands, while Miki laughs into hers.

“N-Nanjo-san!” Emie runs over to her fallen boss, “Are you alright?”

She helps move the pots and pans off of him. Kojiro sits up, rubbing his head.

“Miki-chan and Take are so mean to me. Emie-chan is the only one who’s nice to me.”

Takeji helps him up. He immediately starts pushing the large, green-haired chef to the door. But Kojiro has about ten pounds of muscle over Takeji; he stops in his tracks and his sous-chef stops along with him.

“You’re really going to treat your boss this way?”

“At this point you’re more of a hinderance than a help! Go home, Kojiro-san!”

“You’re really going to _talk_ to your boss that way?”

Takeji rubs his temples in annoyance, “Fine. Go home, _Nanjo-san_!”

“But what about dinner?”

“We’ll be fine,” Miki assures him.

“Yeah, we’ll be alright. Handa!” Takeji barks.

“Yeah?” A shaggy, blond-haired young man holding a broom and dust pan walks over. He has a couple facial piercings and a bored look on his face.

“Handa, you’re on line. Kojiro-san, go home.”

The boy whoops with pleasure, “Yes! I won’t let you down, Take!”

“It’s _Kinjo-san_ to you.”

“R-Right, Kinjo-san.”

Takeji turns to his boss and friend. Kojiro looks genuinely hurt being kicked off the line in his own kitchen. Even though he knows he’s been useless, they didn’t have to say it. He pouts. Takeji pats him on the shoulder.

“Look. We’re all worried about you. Something is clearly going on with you. You’re not sleeping well. We just want you to get some rest, alright.”

“Go get some sleep, Nanjo,” Miki says as she walks back into the dining room.

Emie follows behind her senior. She waves sweetly, “I hope you get some rest, Nanjo-san.”

“Yeah, just leave it to me, old ma— er, I mean, Nanjo-san!” Tatsuya points to himself proudly, “I can hold down the line for you.”

“We’ve got it, Kojiro-san,” Takeji gives him a reassuring smile. His feelings of rejection are replaced with feelings of consolation. It’s nice to know he has such reliable employees. It’s nice to know that the Sia la Luce family cares about him just as much as he cares about them.

Kojiro smiles back. “Maybe you’re right. I really didn’t get any sleep last night. Thanks, Take.”

“No problem.” Kojiro grabs his bag and heads out of the back door.

He hops on his motorcycle. He takes a moment to breathe in the fresh air. He tries to clear his mind. That’s all he wants is a clear mind. He breathes out in a heavy sigh. Yeah, it’s not working. He starts his bike and peels into the road, heading back to his apartment. Kojiro is already thinking about his bed, praying for that kid to stay out of his dreams.

* * *

Kojiro is stirred from his sleep by the ringing of his cellphone. He wakes with a snort, smacking his lips to the taste of his stale breath. He looks around the pitch blackness of his apartment. It wasn’t this dark when he fell asleep; he must’ve been knocked out for hours. His phone continues to vibrate and ring. He fumbles around in the darkness until he stumbles across the device. He answers the phone.

“Hello?”

“Kojiro,” it’s Kaoru, “why weren’t you as S tonight?”

He yawns, “Wow, is it that late? My bad. I was sleeping.”

“Idiot.”

“Aw, Kaoru, you really wanted to see me, huh? It’s sweet that you care so much about me,” Kojiro teases.

Kaoru sucks his teeth, “Shut up, gorilla. I didn’t miss you. I had something to tell you.”

“Oh, yeah? What?”

“It has to do with that kid.”

Kojiro sits up. His attention has been grabbed.

“I want you to listen carefully, idiot. I don’t enjoy helping you. In fact, I avoid it. But ever since this kid nonsense came up, you’ve been exceptionally annoying, and I really can’t bear it anymore,” Kaoru says, “I had a client come in a few days ago. She was an older woman, perhaps in her fifties or sixties, and she was hold—”

“You know not I’m looking for an old woman, right? What does this have to do with anything?”

Kaoru clears his throat, obviously displeased with his interruption, “If you listen, it’ll make sense. Interrupt me again and I won’t tell you another word. As I was saying, the client was holding a young boy, who I believe is her grandson. I didn’t believe you when you said you found a child that looks like you, but, unfortunately for the child, the resemblance is uncanny. Anyway, the client’s last name is (Surname). Does that sound name familiar to you?”

(Surname).

(Surname)?

As in, (Surname) … (Name)?

A wave of repressed memories comes crashing down on top of him. The impact knocks the wind from his body. He’s drowned in things he hasn’t thought of in years.

“Kojiro?”

“Uh, yeah, thanks, Kaoru. I, um, I gotta go.”

He just hangs up and flops back on his bed. He stares at the ceiling. (Surname) (Name) … _you’re back._


	5. Part V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> double chapter drop!!

You disappeared. _Vanished._ After that one night, you were gone. Kojiro called and called and called. He sent message after message. He rode around the city looking for you. He asked anyone he could think of. But nothing. It was maddening and frustrating as he searched for you with nothing to show for it. Then, after a time, he supposed that you weren’t trying to be found.

So he decided to forget you since you were so intent on being forgotten. He locked away those memories he shared with you. He minimized and belittled what you really meant to him. He wanted to make you just another face, just another body. He slept with anyone he could seduce until you slowly started to fade away. He broke hearts and played with others emotions. He didn’t care, and it worked. Eventually you became another face, another conquest he could brag about, another one of his whores.

It should have stayed that way. It would have been better for everyone. But he saw that boy and heard your name. Now the only thing he has been seeing is your face.

Kojiro takes a deep breath as he skates down the street. Takeji forced him to take one more day off, and, after last night’s revelation, Kojiro didn't protest. If he was a mess yesterday, he would’ve been wreak today. He needs to just get his mind off of everything. It’s a nice day, and he is determined to enjoy the good weather.

His hair is mussed by the gentle summer wind, and he can feel the kiss of the sun warming his skin. The sky is a brilliant and bright shade of blue with a few fluffy, white clouds lazily floating by. He rides deftly, weaving in between pedestrians with hands shoved in his pockets. His red Hawaiian shirt is left open and flutters in the breeze. Honestly, he thought it was a too nice to even have a shirt on, but since he’s headed to a public skatepark he figured he should throw something on.

He hits an inward heelflip as he launches himself over a concrete stairway. He earns a few gasps and giggles from a pretty group of 20-somethings standing nearby. Kojiro shoots them a wink and blows a kiss, causing one of the girls to swoon a little. He chuckles to himself then sighs. It’s been a long week; something about trying to find a mystery woman and her son was just draining. And the answer weighs on his mind even heavier than the question did. Kojiro shakes his head and slaps his cheeks. He doesn’t want to think about any of that. He just wants to skateboard and maybe pick up a couple of ladies on the way home.

When he arrives at the skatepark, it’s teeming with people. But that can be expected on a beautiful summer day like this. Some people are practicing in earnest, trying to nail down new moves and bailing hard. Others are overzealous young skaters trying to impress the dates accompanying them. There are even some young children in the kiddy park trying their hands at skating under the watchful eyes of their parents.

As soon as it is Kojiro's turn to hit the ramp, he garners all the attention he’s been craving. Women are fawning over him, and men whisper under their breaths, words laced with jealousy. He hits several tricks, flexing his muscles and his skating prowess. Kojiro starts to sweat under the heat of the sun, but it only makes his body glisten like a god as he soars through the air. When he finishes, he catches his board in his hand and ruffles his damp hair. A woman with blonde highlights approaches him with a plastic water bottle. She can’t meet his eyes, instead choosing to look at his shoes instead, and her face is a bright shade of scarlet. Kojiro can tell it’s not a sunburn.

“Um,” she squeaks in a mousy voice, “I, uh, was watching you skate and y-you’re really good a-and it’s so hot out I thought … I thought you might want a bottle of water?”

She bows, holding out the water bottle like it’s an offering. Kojiro blinks, but takes the water nonetheless. He uses a finger to raise her chin; she finally meets his eyes.

“Thanks,” he says with a wink, “I appreciate it.”

He takes a long sip of water then splashes the rest on his face and chest. Water slips down every crevice of his chiseled body. The girl with blond highlights nearly passes out, but she’s pushed aside and replaced with a new hoard of women offering him various items. Water bottles, towels, and protein bars are all shoved in his face by manicured hands. Kojiro chuckles, rubbing the back of his sheepishly as if he isn’t enjoying every second of attention. He looks up and sees a clique of guys; they share at him hatefully, no doubt cursing his name. He laughs internally. Honestly, he enjoys hateful jealously almost as much as he loves reverent admiration. He gives out sweet compliments and flirtatious winks like Halloween candy. Every now and then, he looks over the heads of his female groupies to return the gaze of an envious onlooker. It feels like every eye in the skatepark is on him, and he relishes in it. It feels good get praise for his skills after a week of bumbling around. Even some of the parents in the kiddy section are starting to look over. But there are a couple of eyes that aren’t looking his way. Kojiro raises, wondering what could be more important in this moment than himself.

A mother with (color) locks holds the hands of her son as she pulls him around. The little boy is on a skateboard, dressed in safety gear from head to toe. Kojiro can tell she’s an overprotective type. She probably would’ve put more even safety gear on him if they made more, so wrist guards, elbow pads, knee pads, and a size-appropriate helmet would have to make do. Still, the kid is having the time of his life. Even from here, he can see his happy face and wild green hair poking out of helmet. Greenish hair. Kojiro starts to squint a little, trying to get a better look. The boy is about the same age as the kid he saw from his restaurant. Girls are still trying to get his attention by waving things in his face and calling out to him. Kojiro isn’t paying attention to them anymore. He steps through the crowd; the “excuse me’s” fall from his lips automatically. It’s a long shot, but he has to take a chance.

He drops his board down and skates over to the mother and child in an instant.

“Hey, little man,” Kojiro greets him cheerfully, “That’s some sick skating you’re doing.”

The boy is the first to look up; time slows for Kojiro. He thought the boy looked like him from a distance, but, up close, the resemblance is even more apparent. Of course not everything is the exact same. He can pick out features that the boy clearly got from his mother like the shape of his nose and eyes. However, his eyes are the same shade of burgundy and the color of his hair is the same, a deep, forest green. Kojiro can feel his chest tighten. Then his mother faces him. All of the air feels like it’s been squeezed out of his lungs.

* * *

_No way,_ you think to yourself. There is no way that’s Joe. Or Nanjo Kojiro, whatever you’re supposed to call him. You noticed him before he noticed you. He always drew a crowd and managed to capture everyone’s attention. You prayed he wouldn’t see the two of you, and even if he did, you prayed he would stay away. But here he is, standing in front of you looking at your three-year-old son with wide eyes. You scoop Natsuhiko into your arms before he has time to protest and pick up his skateboard. You try to walk away. He stops you, riding in front of you to block your path. You try to make a break for it a second time; again, he stops you. You glare at him.

“What do you want, Joe?” you ask in a low voice.

He puts his hands up as if he were surrendering, “Hey, I just want to talk. And call me Kojiro. I know you know my name.”

“We don’t have anything to talk about, Kojiro.”

“Clearly, we do,” he says gesturing to the child in your arms.

You look over and see the crowd is still staring at the two of you. Your mind is running a mile a minute. This feels like a worst case scenario to you. Sure, you had a chance of running to him in the skate park, but, even if you did see each other, you were sure he’d just ignore you. Now all these people are staring. He’s a walking attraction, and he’s pulled you and Natsuhiko into the show. You want to get out of the spotlight as soon as possible.

“Alright, alright,” you say quickly, anything to get away, “We can’t talk here. Meet me at Konsai Park at 5:30. We’ll both be there.”

“Konsai Park,” he repeats, “I’ll be there. Can I get your number. Or give you mine?”

“I … ” you don’t want him to have your contact information, “I promise we’ll be there.”

That’s the last thing you say to him before you walk off. Kojiro watches the two of you leave the park. He stares at his son, and little burgundy eyes stare back until he’s out of sight.


End file.
